This was written for the mini-challenge, in June 2012:
Find at least one set of homonyms (comprising at least three words) and write something that includes each word (used in correct context).
For more fun, use more than one set of homonyms in the same article.
I chose to do two sets of homonyms:
Cord, chord, cored, and a second definition of cord
Rain, reign, and rein
Me an’ Rascal an’ a Summer Day
Growin boys need plenty o’ hard work ta keep ‘em busy. That’s what Daddy says, anyway. So me an’ Rascal spend a heap o’ time choppin’ wood. Well, Rascal, he don’t do no choppin’, he’s jus’ there fer company.
Daddy says I’m gittin’ ta be a big ol’ boy now, and I ought ta be able to match him cord fer cord before too long. I don’t know about that ‘cause Daddy’s got him some big strong workin’ hands, an’ he’s ‘bout the best there is with an ax. Most grown men caint keep up with him, don’t matter if they’s choppin’ wood, or hayin’, or fencin’.
You’d probably think big, ol’ hands like Daddy’s would be useless around lesser things, but you don’t know Daddy. He can work a bow an’ fiddle like nothin’ you ever seen nor heard. Long as I kin remember, Daddy’s been the champion of ever’ fiddle showdown in the whole valley. He don’t brag none, though. That’s not his way. He don’t talk much a’tall, in fact. He says he’d rather let his hands do the talkin’. What he does do is play that fiddle. Of an evenin’, he’ll sit down with that ol’ thing, an’ put it through its paces. He always starts with chords – drawin’ ‘em out real slow-like. Then they get a bit faster, an’ then he gets ta pluckin’ and before ya know it, he’s put it all tagether and made up his own tune. Daddy an’ his fiddle are the highlight of any goin’s on around here. He won the fiddle competition at the county fair ten years runnin’, but he don’t enter nomore. He does the judgin’ now, ‘cause he says the younger ones ought ta have a chance.
Well, I’s out there choppin’ away, an’ I never even noticed those clouds comin’ in. That rain sure caught me by surprise. Didn’t get much work done, but I ain’t so foolhardy as ta use a ax when it’s rainin’; still, anybody workin’ fer Daddy knows ya don’t run off an’ leave your mess layin’ around. I done that once last summer. Let me just say, I won’t be doin’ that no more. Daddy says you’re not finished till ever’thing’s set ta rights. So, I stacked that wood as fast as I could, then I hustled out ta the barn and put the ax away. By the time I made it ta the house, I’s drenched clear through. Mama took one look at me, and just turned around, shakin’ her head. I couldn’t hear what she was mutterin’, but I bet I could tell ya anyways, ‘cause I’ve heard it before. ”That poor boy don’t have enough sense ta come in out o’ the rain.”
Anyways, once I got myself all dried out, she set me down ta helpin’ her with the kitchen work. Boy, I’d druther be out in the rain, ‘cause the heat comin’ outa that oven liked ta roast me alive, but Mama said there weren’t nothin’ fer it. The county fair starts tomorra, an’ Mama is determined that Eunice McCoy’s seven year reign as the Cumberland County Baked Apple Pie Champion is about ta come to an end.
A body caint enter but one apple pie, but Mama’ll be totin’ in four of ‘em, just ta be safe. They’s sittin’ over there on the counter now, all boxed up. Mama even had me ta tie some cord around each one, ta make a carry handle for ‘em.
Here lately, we’ve et apple pie near ever’ day. I’ve cored me a heap o’ apples fer all those pies, too. Truth be told, me an’ Rascal’d sooner be down at the fishin’ hole, but the smell of one o’ those pies a bakin’ in the oven is a pretty good reward. Rascal, he’s happy as long as I remember ta toss him a few pealings ever’ now an’ then; but I love me some apple pie, and I’m here ta tell ya, those latest ones have been somethin’ special. I do believe that blue ribbon just might have Mama’s name on it this year, just like she says.
I ain’t said nothin’ ta nobody, but Mama may not be the only one bringin’ home a ribbon this year. Me an’ Rascal been workin’ with my quarter horse, Midnight, an’ we got us a show like nothin’ you ever seen.
Those two, they always been buddies, see, ‘cause rascal’s Mama done birthed him in Midnight’s stall. If Rascal’s not with me, I can count on findin’ him wherever I put Midnight. Well, with the fair comin’ up an’ all, I’s workin’ with Midnight, tryin’ to teach him some fancy tricks, but he’s bein’ stubborn. I’s about ta give up on him, but then, those two come up with the craziest thing. Rascal give out a bark, an’ when I looked, he picked up Midnight’s rein, and lead him through that very trick – they’s both doin’ it! Whadda ya think o’ that? So I showed ‘em another un, an’ now they got a whole string o’ tricks. All I have ta do is whistle, and they go through the whole routine. Maybe it’ll win somethin’. Should be fun, anyways.
It appears the day’s near about over, ‘cause it sounds like Daddy’s got his fiddle out. I figure I’ll sit out here on the porch and listen fer a spell. Daddy says a man’s got two ears an’ one mouth, so’s he should listen a heap more ‘an he talks. Might be I could stand ta work on that one.
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